After the Rift Was Sealed Part Two
by TheConduit
Summary: Our heroes and villains alike find that magic isn't always predictable ...
1. Chapter 1

Nicci opened her eyes to find three Mord' Sith staring down at her. Turning her head, she saw that she was in a tower room of the fortress. She could see stars through the window … tiny, mocking specks of light.

"This is new," she said, her words slurring with fatigue. "Did you get tired of torturing me in the dungeon?"

She tried to strain against her shackles, but she was too weak. The Mord' Sith ignored her, turning to stare intently at the door … as if they were waiting for something … or someone.

A small shadow filled the doorway. It was the old hag that Rahl had used to heal her.  
If I could use my powers, I'd fry that old crone! she thought.

The woman carried a small black cauldron in her hands. Walking over to the head of the altar Nicci was chained to, she placed it by Nicci's head and began to remove its contents …

The first was a dagger – dark black steel, with a curved edge and bone handle, encased in a turquoise sheath. Next she removed what looked to be a paintbrush with long black bristles. And finally, she removed an exquisite pendant of gold, inlaid with a smooth round stone the color of midnight.

Almost as if on cue, Darken Rahl emerged through the doorway, carrying a scroll in his hands. His blue eyes glittered with secret knowledge as he took in the sight before him.

Finally, he thought, this borrowed body will be "mine" again!

A smirk tugged at his lips when he saw Nicci, looking pale and pathetic on the altar. Crossing the room, he handed the scroll to the old woman and leaned down to place a soft kiss on Nicci's forehead. She groaned in revulsion.

He whispered in her ear. "Poor, sweet Nicci. Once so fierce, now just a shadow of her former self. I do so wish that I can alleviate some of your suffering. It's just so – undignified – to see you this way."

Nicci glared up at him, but simply didn't have the strength to speak anymore. She sneered and turned away. Rahl's eyes darkened with a sinister light.

"Now don't worry, my dear … I assure you this will hurt you far more than it hurts me."

The candles in the room seemed to dim, and Nicci heard the old woman chanting words from Rahl's scroll. The Mord' Sith took their places at the sides and foot of the altar, while Rahl stood, grinning, at the head, alongside the crone. He seemed almost … giddy.

Nicci fought to stay awake, but she could feel her life force draining from her. She managed to open one eye, and saw the old woman holding the dagger and brush. Her chanting was getting louder, faster. For a split second, she saw the crone hand the dagger to Rahl, who had removed his robe and stood naked to the waist.

Damn you, she wanted to scream. Damn you! Damn you! Damn you!

Her eyes fluttered, and in her weakness she could only see small flashes … Rahl holding the dagger … the crone lifting her hands to the sky as her chants went from words to screams … the three Mord' Sith joining hands, forming a triquetra … blue fire illuminating an inverted pentagram on the wall … the blade falling toward her heart, sickeningly fast …

She felt pain and warm blood flowing over her chest. The old woman's chants changed, becoming different, perhaps even reverent in a perverse way. Then, she felt long black brush-hairs tickling her skin, and she thought she saw the crone painting arcane symbols on Rahl's exposed chest and muscled arms. The blood – her blood – sunk into his skin, leaving a faint blue glow behind before disappearing altogether.

The last thing Nicci saw before she died – for the final time – was the crone placing the pendant over Rahl's head. He was beaming with delight, and his eyes were glowing a soft white. Then she closed her eyes forever.

Rahl turned to look at Nicci's lifeless body and cooed, "Thank you, my dear. This is just what I've always wanted."


	2. Chapter 2

Zedd listened intently, eyes closed, as Richard relayed the vision he'd had the night before. When Richard was finished, he kept his eyes shut for a full minute. Richard thought he might have fallen asleep, and was about to shake him, when he spoke.

"The vision was indeed real. I know the man you spoke of. His name is Brother Marcus, and he leads the Brotherhood of the Kassdim. They are honorable men. If he says this 'Conduit' is so important, it must be so." Zedd stood up, stretched, and patted Richard's shoulder. "We'd better hurry."

Richard looked confused. "But Zedd, we don't know where the scribe he talked about is right now."

"I do."

"How could you possibly know?"

Zedd's face dropped suddenly. "I'm not sure … exactly. But as you told me about the vision, it was as if I could see it myself, as well as the location of the scribe we're looking for." He bit his lip, thinking. "Perhaps this is part of the 'blessing' the Creator gave you … and if it is, we'll have to test its limits. We wouldn't want someone like Darken Rahl or his ilk to have access to your thoughts, even if it's only on the receiving end."

They both looked up as Kahlan emerged from the woods, stretching. She smiled when she saw Richard, and quickly closed the distance between them for a warm embrace. Zedd sat back down … this could take a while.

"Good morning."

Richard smiled back at her and kissed her gently on the lips. "Good morning yourself." Somehow, though, Kahlan sensed that something was wrong, and tensed. She looked back and forth between Richard and Zedd. "Did something happen?"

Just then, Cara entered the clearing … silently, just as she always did. The tension mounting from Richard and Zedd's secret and Kahlan's curiosity was so thick you could cut it with a knife … and then eat it for a week. She arched an eyebrow as she surveyed the three of them.

Zedd chuckled nervously – like he always did when he was flustered and trying not to let anybody else know. "Oh, no Kahlan! Everything's fine! Now, both of you … help an old man up so we can get breakfast started and be on our way."

Kahlan and Cara both held out an arm, and Zedd stealthily flung a worried glance in Richard's direction.


	3. Chapter 3

Darken Rahl walked slowly along the balcony, staring up at the moon. It seemed fuller to him tonight – _bigger_, even. He seemed almost mesmerized, as if he were seeing the shiny, white orb for the very first time.

The ritual had gone flawlessly. Nicci's Han had been passed to him, thanks to the magic contained in the ancient scroll. He stopped momentarily and closed his sapphire eyes, feeling the power of it coursing like liquid heat through his veins.

The _POWER_ …

As if prompted by his thoughts, Rahl's eyes began to glow. He suddenly felt compelled to open them, and was stunned at what his eyes beheld. The night had seemingly come alive with thousands of colors and sounds. The euphoria was incredible, like nothing he had ever felt before … as if strength, beauty and sensuality had interwoven themselves within his soul. Even in his youth, when the Keeper had first enhanced his powers, he'd never felt like this. He shunned the urge to step off the balcony and soar to the stars.

A soft noise behind him broke his chain of thought, and he spun on his heel. The old woman, Grakla, was in the doorway. Her eyes penetrated even through the power's euphoria. An involuntary chill ran up Rahl's spine, and he glared at her.

"I thought that our business was complete, sorceress."

The old woman didn't budge. She spoke, her voice sounding as ancient as the parchment she'd read from earlier that night. "No, Lord Rahl. On the contrary, our 'business' has just begun. You felt the power just now, did you not?"

Rahl's lips curled into a smile, but it was hollow one. "I'm sure you know the answer to that already. So, old woman … have you come to tell me I've made some horrible choice? That I've cursed myself somehow? Surely you don't believe me so gullible!"

The crone took a few steps, leaning heavily on an intricately carved cane, and shook her head. "The spell that was cast has a life of its own. I come only to say that, 'cursed' or not, you do not control the power. You are simply its host, its home. It may be that the power does not agree with what decisions you choose to make. In that case, you may feel as though the power has abandoned you. But this is not so. The power longs for balance, and it can sense the outcome of every choice you will ever make. You will need to consider your every action from this day hence." Her deep-set eyes twinkled, and she stretched a gnarled finger outward to point at the midnight pendant hanging around his neck. "I see that one choice has already been made for you."

Rahl's eyes fell to the pendant, which glowed like his eyes had done just moments before. He felt strangely drawn to stare into the black stone, and pushed away thoughts that questioned the ability of a black stone to emit a glow like the moon. He drew the pendant up before his face and gazed into it.

Swirls of color danced in the darkness, pooling and coalescing like drops of ink in water. Once again, Rahl felt pulled, as if he knew something he deeply desired was hidden within the stone's depths. He blinked, as the swirls turned to shapes, and the shapes into a form he'd gotten to know very well … the silhouette of a young woman. But something was different about this one, and he strained to see her more clearly.

She was younger than he, with raven hair that hung in long, silken curls to her waist. Her skin was the color of cream, and her full lips were the color of scarlet. It was daylight. The girl stood on the porch of a small cottage, by which a brook emptied into a crystal-blue pond. His brows pinched together as he realized that the cottage was right there in the land of D'Hara, and he wondered how it was that he'd never known this girl … literally or figuratively … at any point in his life.

The girl appeared to him to be sleepwalking. Her eyes were closed as she walked from the porch to the brook, and took a small bucket from the bank to fill. Every movement – no matter how mundane – seemed to fill him with longing for her. He had to meet her, to _have_ her …

Then she turned sharply, as if she heard a noise that startled her. Her eyes flew open in fear, and Rahl gasped. Her eyes were like quicksilver, and they glowed faintly, even in the daylight …

Grakla's wrinkled hand touched Rahl's, and he found himself back on the balcony. It was still night. The girl in the vision was nowhere to be found, leaving him inexplicably with a profound feeling of emptiness. He tried to speak, but could only manage a whisper.

"Was she … was the vision real, or just a conjurer's trick?"

The old woman smiled and hobbled back toward the doorway. "Oh I assure you, Lord Rahl … that was no trick. That … or rather, she – is your destiny."

Rahl heard the door latch click as the old woman left. He held the pendant tightly in his hand, and thought that he could smell the faint scent of dandelion on the night breeze.


	4. Chapter 4

Once again, the walk seemed endless. Cara grimaced and wondered to herself why they hadn't bothered to try and find the horses they'd acquired from the Mord' Sith before the Rift was sealed. It certainly would have made the trek go more quickly. Yet still, she trudged along behind Richard and Kahlan, with Zedd bringing up the rear.

Zedd had said that they were going to find a friend of his, a 'Brother Marcus,' who led the Brotherhood of the Kassdim. Cara had only the faintest knowledge of these men, having heard stories from other Mord' Sith when she had been in the service of Darken Rahl. Back then, they would have been enemies. She wondered if she would have to prove her loyalty to Richard to the Brotherhood, as she'd had to do for so many others, so many times before.

She looked up the path at Richard. He'd been fairly quick to trust her – a dangerous move to be sure, since she was a Mord' Sith – but it had proved to be a choice that helped them both. Over the past year, Richard had shown her kindness and respect, two things that had been painfully stripped from her as a young Mord' Sith. She, in return, had used her training to help him defy and defeat Darken Rahl.

The thought of Rahl's sizzling corpse brought a slight smile to her lips. True, Darken Rahl had returned in a borrowed body – one she herself had killed – but Walter had no magic, and Rahl was just about powerless now. She knew that the former Lord of D'Hara would suffer more without magic than he ever would in the Underworld … although, that would be just fine with her, too.

And it wasn't just defeating Rahl for and with Richard that moved her. Kahlan had learned – halfheartedly at first, then more and more – to be her friend, a friendship that she now returned (if only in secret). And Zedd had been a kind of father to her …

The thought made her heart clench. As a Mord' Sith, she had been forced to kill her own father as the final test of her loyalty. She wondered what her life would have been like without Rahl's interference. A few times, she'd experienced freedom and happiness, but the two always seemed to disappear, made secondary to the Seeker's mission. She told herself that she understood, but the pain of their loss still felt fresh to her. Before she could stop herself, a small, hot tear escaped the corner of her eye.

Zedd plodded along behind Cara, watching her intently. She felt his gaze and turned, wiping the tear away with her gloved hand before facing him.

"Is something wrong?" she demanded, straightening her back and pursing her lips.

"No, not at all," Zedd replied, stopping. "Just wondering when we'd be stopping for lunch. I think I need a moment to rest these old bones." He sat down on a rock and stretched his long limbs and back dramatically before motioning her on. "It's alright, go ahead. I'll only be a moment … I'll catch up to you."

Cara arched an eyebrow, not sure why she felt uneasy. But she nodded her head and walked quickly to catch up to Richard and Kahlan, who were now a good distance ahead of them.

After Cara was out of sight, Zedd closed his eyes momentarily, and tried to center himself. In his mind's eye, he could see Brother Marcus, as well as the young scribe, Jonathan, whom he (somehow) knew would be waiting for them only a few leagues away.

He had told Richard before that he was unsure of this new ability. Although Richard did indeed have wizard's blood – on both sides of his family – and he had been blessed with the title of Seeker, and wielded the Sword of Truth, it was unnerving (not to mention unheard of) for a seemingly mundane person to immediately gain fantastic powers. Granted, the Creator herself had bestowed them. But Richard had a point – it was always a good idea to use magic only as a last resort, and yet here was Richard, sharing magical visions telepathically, simply by telling others about them. The Creator's 'blessing' could easily become a curse, if the wrong people became aware of them.

_Beware the golden-haired woman_ …

Zedd opened his eyes. He could not bring himself to believe that the vision was talking about Cara. Unlike Richard, he sensed more about the 'golden-haired woman,' and it was completely unlike Cara. The woman he'd sensed was pure evil, bent on revenge. Yet, he had promised his grandson that he would be vigilant toward Cara, and that's exactly what he was going to do. He got up, stretched again, and followed the trio's footsteps until they were in sight again.


	5. Chapter 5

Marianna cursed under her breath. Although she may have been given more life and energy, the old nags had not, and they were tiring. She found a clearing with water nearby, and loosed them to drink and rest. After a few moments, her stomach began to growl, and she began to search for food herself.

A large tree covered in succulent-looking fruit stood at the far edge of the clearing. Marianna ran involuntarily to it, grabbing handfuls of fruit and shoving them into her mouth. Within minutes she was full, and she plopped herself on the ground, thinking to take a short nap before restarting her quest for the silver-eyed girl.

_The sun was bright in the sky, which was fortunate. There were fewer bandits on the roads during the day. After trading at the village market, she would bring home some bread, cheese and wine to her aged grandmother, who would tell her stories of the Seeker. _

_She wondered what the Seeker was really like. Grandmother's stories were exciting – full of adventure, intrigue and romance – but Leeah couldn't help thinking to herself that maybe Grandmother had added a few details here and there to make them more epic. She'd never mention that to Grandmother, of course._

_A twig snapped in the forest behind her. Leeah spun around, looking for whatever or whomever had made the sound, and grasped a small dagger hidden within her basket._

_A small rabbit ran across the road. Leeah let out a sigh of relief, when a hand clamped over her mouth. She tried to wrench free, but the man's strong arms held her tight. Her basket fell to the ground at her feet._

"_Now, what have we here? What a pretty," the man purred, the putrid stench of old ale on his breath. "Gone for a walk in the woods, have we? Tsk, tsk, tsk. A lot of danger in the woods, ain't there?"_

_A second man emerged from the brush. Although she couldn't tell for sure, Leeah guessed he was smaller than the man who held her fast. His face was haggard, and a long scar ran across the right side. He held a small length of leather cord in his hands. A sinister smile tugged at his thin lips, exposing foul, rotted teeth._

"_Eh, Bracken! Ya found a good one, did ya? What say we take a look at what this little pretty's brought us?"_

_Leeah pushed back the urge to vomit, closed her eyes and focused. These men were obviously up to more than just 'no good.' They were going to rob her and hurt her … or worse._

_With all the strength she could muster, she stamped her foot on Bracken's big foot, then elbowed him in the groin. The big man howled in pain and sank like a rock. The smaller man scowled and charged toward her. _

_Leeah dropped down and grabbed her dagger from the basket. The smaller man's eyes opened wide when he saw the blade, but he wasn't quick enough to stop himself before it sunk into his side. He fell to his knees, then to the ground. A soft hiss escaped his lips as his lifeblood pooled at Leeah's feet. She took an involuntary step backward, and tripped over Bracken, who was starting to recover._

"_You bitch! You killed Mero! I'll kill ya myself!" _

_Leeah gasped and scrambled to her feet, running as fast as she could through the brush. Bracken's heavy footfalls sounded as if they were right behind her. She held her hands out in front of her, trying to shield herself from branches and wild thorns that blocked her way and left dozens of tiny scratches behind._

_She looked back to see how much distance she'd put between herself and Bracken, and ran straight into a large tree. Everything seemed to go black for a moment, then tiny stars dotted her vision. She had no idea whether seconds or minutes passed before she regained her sight, but what she saw then made her blood run cold._

_Bracken stood before her, his hands covered in Mero's blood. He was holding her dagger, rage emanating from every pore of his body. Leeah tried to get up, but let out a small yelp when she realized that she'd twisted her ankle when she fell down._

"_I'll teach ya, little missy. You wanna play with knives? Well now you'll know what happens when ya do!" He plunged the blade deep into her chest._

_Leeah tried to scream, but she couldn't breathe. She tried to push Bracken away, but her arms felt like they were made of lead. She felt Bracken pull the dagger out of her chest. He wiped the blade on his pants leg, tucked the dagger into his belt, and left her to die. _

_Soon, darkness began to cover her vision, and she let herself fall into the cool, restful waters of death…_

Marianna awoke with a start, her pulse racing. A thin glisten of sweat covered her. She clenched her chest, as if checking for a wound, then chided herself for believing a stupid nightmare.

She looked up at the sky. It would be late afternoon soon. She got up, hitched the horses back up to the cart, and started again toward her quarry.


	6. Chapter 6

Jonathan knew he needed to keep going, but the memory of the silver-eyed girl just wouldn't go away. Twice he had gotten lost since he'd met her. He couldn't keep his thoughts together to save his life … but he would _have_ to, and not only for his _own_ life's sake, but the whole _world's_.

The road curved to the left, eventually leading through a valley situated among several rocky hills. He sighed. His course did not lead him through the valley. On the contrary, it led him over the rocky hills.

The horse would not like the next few miles. At all.

He was right. Halfway up the second hill, the horse stopped and refused to budge another inch. She'd always been a fussy one … but was it really necessary to be fussy when on a quest to save the world?

Jonathan dismounted and tried to lead the horse by hand. Still she wouldn't budge. He took a small cloth from his saddlebag and covered her eyes with it. It seemed to help – she took several small steps – but Jonathan knew that she would have to do better than that, and soon.

Determined to succeed, he took the reins in both hands and pulled. Hard. The horse neighed and jumped backward, throwing Jonathan to the ground. He was covered in mud and just about to curse (after all, who would hear him out here?) when a familiar voice called out from behind him.

"Ho! Brother Jonathan! Are you in need of assistance?"

Jonathan scrambled to his feet and tried his best to get the mud off his robes. Approaching from the top of the hill was the Wizard of the First Order, Zeddicus Z'ul Zorander, followed by the Seeker, the Mother Confessor, and – a Mord' Sith! He quickly pulled a small knife from beneath his robe and held it out toward Cara, who instinctively reached for her Agiel.

"You! Stay away from the Seeker! I-I'll kill you if I have to!"

Richard unsheathed his own sword, and he stretched his left arm toward the confused scribe. "It's alright. She's with us. Her name is Cara."

Jonathan looked back and forth confusedly between Richard and Cara, and finally at Kahlan and Zedd, who smiled and nodded. Embarrassed, he put the dagger back under his robe, then ran toward Zedd. He fell to his knees.

"Wizard Zeddicus, I must bring you with me. Back to the home of the Brotherhood. I have discovered several texts that – if I am right – may give the Keeper another chance at the land of the living."

Kahlan gasped and looked at Richard, who sheathed his sword and patted the young man on the back. "Tell us what you know."

"No," Zedd said suddenly. Richard shot him a confused look. Zedd took Richard aside, out of earshot of the others.

"Richard, if you are able to transmit your thoughts into my head simply by speaking, it is reasonable that there is a chance someone else may be able to receive them as well. I think that maybe he should tell me about his discovery first, at least until we know the limits of this 'power' of yours."

Richard was visibly upset, but relented. Zedd took the young scribe back to their makeshift campsite and sat him by the fire.

"Now, Brother Jonathan … tell me what it is you've found." The young man looked up at Zedd and took a deep breath.

"I was cataloguing several of our oldest texts, when I found that several of them – in many different languages – seemed to be talking about the same thing. They mentioned a 'conduit,' something that could bridge the magic veil between our world and the world of non-magic. Some of them even said that the 'conduit' could bridge the veil between the living and the dead. But all of them agreed that it would be discovered in this age, and that the Keeper would desire it greatly."

Zedd looked sharply at Jonathan. "Did the scrolls mention what this 'conduit' looked like?"

Jonathan shook his head. "Not clearly, at least. There were several entries about darkness: one about a raven, a dark stone, and one that mentions night – as best I can translate, anyway. 'Night shall fall upon the eyes of both the innocent and the wicked.' But beyond that, there's no real description of what we're to look for. Believe me, I've checked and double-checked the scrolls." He sighed. "I'm sorry I can't be of more help."

"Well, that's prophecies for you," Zedd said comfortingly.

Jonathan brightened. "Perhaps Brother Marcus and the other brothers can help us. Brother Marcus seemed to know more. He sent me to come get you. Whatever this 'conduit' is, it's pretty powerful. Brother Marcus said that even the Seeker would be powerless if the Keeper got his hands on it."

Zedd helped Jonathan to his feet. "Then we'd better get a move on. There's no time to waste."

After Jonathan had packed his horse, and the others were ready to leave, Zedd looked at the horizon – toward the setting sun, the way from which Jonathan had come. He didn't know why, but inwardly he felt that something was missing in Jonathan's translation.

Richard took Kahlan's hand, and the group set off, following the young scribe.


	7. Chapter 7

Darken Rahl woke before dawn. His sleep had been restless … the silver-eyed girl haunted all of his dreams. He tore the silk sheet that covered his naked form and leaped from the bed, heading for his private dressing chamber.

He opened the door silently, aware that – since he'd chosen to sleep alone, an unusual act for the former Lord of D'Hara – the Mord' Sith guards posted outside his chamber would be alerted to any sound.

Finally, hidden in the back of the closet, he found what he was looking for – a dark-colored, ratty garment and black woolen scarf that had belonged (for a short time, at least) to his present body's former owner, Walter. Rahl had worn it a few times, when he wanted to walk secretly among the people. The last time he'd worn it, he had almost died from the poison-tipped blade of a Dacra hurled by a Sister of the Dark. The wizard Zeddicus had healed him of the poison, but not of the desire to defeat his former master, the Keeper.

Rahl closed his eyes as he donned the common clothing. His fingers brushed the slit where the Dacra had cut his arm, still stained with a faint splotch of red.

A casual observer would have thought that he closed his eyes out of disgust, but they would be wrong. When Rahl inhaled the dry scent of burlap, he thought of freedom. Freedom from formality, from protocol, from his own name … a name that had been nothing more than a curse his whole life. When he wore this garment, he could be anybody … anybody but Darken Rahl … and somehow, it soothed him.

He envied his brother. Richard Cypher – Seeker of Truth. A hero since before he was even born. He could walk into almost any town, and they'd throw him a party. Darken, on the other hand, had been taunted for years by a father who boasted of siring the one who would murder him, and his own people considered him a monster.

It had only been in the past few months that father and son had reconciled, ironically, in the Underworld. For the first time in his life, he'd felt the love of his father, Panis Rahl … and then he'd been forced by the Keeper to torture him. It had taken considerable control to hide the pain that threatened to devour him from within. After he'd finished, he banished himself to the shadows, willing himself not to weep.

In the beginning, when he's first taken the throne, he'd been cold and calculating out of necessity. His father had wanted him dead, and ironically, he _had_ been…

_On a dark midsummer night, he'd killed himself and sold his soul to the Keeper to enhance his wizard's power. In exchange, he'd become the very first baneling – forced to kill one person every day in order to remain 'alive' and intact. _

_His first victim – or so he'd thought – had been Panis Rahl, but in fact it had been a double. Panis, not wanting to die and seeking redemption for having brought such a 'monster' into the world, changed his appearance and joined an order in the far country. Darken had been none the wiser._

_His second victim had been a soldier who refused his order to destroy any child who may become Seeker. He hadn't known the man very well, which made it easier. In time, he would train his mind to distance himself from his victims. __**They aren't real**__, a voice within him would whisper. But inwardly, he remembered each and every one of their faces, and their nightmarish faces haunted him every night._

_To dull the pain, he immersed himself in sensuality. The Mord' Sith were trained to pleasure the Lord of D'Hara in any way he requested, but the ruthless 'training' they received left them virtually soulless. They didn't love him. They couldn't._

_So he 'requested' that beautiful young girls from the villages be brought to him, hoping secretly that one would actually care for him. But none did. Many complied, and some were killed, but love remained elusive... _

Rahl sighed. The words of Kahlan Amnell echoed through his mind … "And what would you know about love … except that you'll never feel it from anyone?"

_Oh, but he had. Not romantic love, not sex … but love nonetheless. Jennsen, his half-sister had shown it to him. Pure, innocent love of a little sister for her older brother. He remembered the soft brush of her kiss on his cheek as she'd thanked him. It had both frightened and exhilarated him. He'd had to lie to get it, but somehow, he knew that one day, it was possible to be loved._

He wrapped the black woolen scarf about his head like a hood and crept out the secret exit hidden at the back of the closet. He walked silently through the keep, out the door to the stable, and prepared his favorite horse – a black stallion. He chose to forego the saddle and bridle that bore the Rahl family crest, and chose instead a simple brown leather one with matching saddlebags. He hid a dagger in his pocket and headed out, stealthily eluding the gaze of two Mord' Sith on patrol outside.

He would meet maiden. Hell, he would _woo_ her if he had to. And she would love him. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. After all, she was his _destiny_ …


	8. Chapter 8

Marianna ran quickly through the underbrush. Her hands still burned from the Wizard's Fire that Zedd had hurled at her. She hid behind a large tree, crouched low to the ground and waited for her pursuers to arrive.

Cara crashed through some briars to her left, Agiels whining in both hands. Behind her and to the right, Kahlan advanced with two blades drawn, the Seeker at her side. Marianna raised her wounded hands above her head and held her breath. Her Dacra was still back at the cottage. She winced as she realized that there was no way of escape. Her bright red clothing would surely give her away. After all, all three were looking directly at her.

But they seemed to be completely oblivious to her presence ...

Richard spoke first. "Do you see her?"

"No," Cara replied with a sneer. "If I didn't know better, I'd say she disappeared completely. The brush here is thick, but she'd stick out like a sore thumb in it anyway." Marianna stifled a gasp as Cara came within arm's reach, directly in front of her.

Kahlan groaned. "Who was she? I've never seen that one before."

"I don't know," Richard replied. "But her movements seemed a little familiar to me." He looked up toward the brook. "Check over there. Maybe she went through the water to hide her tracks."

The three departed. Marianna let out a sigh of relief and looked at her wounds. They were severe, but seemed to be healing quickly. She smiled wickedly.

She could now vanish without a trace, and heal herself with just a thought. The Stone of Tears was turning out to be quite a wondrous thing …


End file.
